Fair Trade
by MithLuin
Summary: AU. A life for a life is never enough. What does the Gate demand this time? References to - spoilers for - events in both the anime and the manga.
1. Fair Trade

Fair Trade

There was something important he was supposed to be doing. But he couldn't remember what it was.

"You're here," a voice remarked conversationally. It struck him as odd, but he couldn't place why. He turned, and saw that it was someone he knew. A short blond boy, dressed in black. But when he tried to say the boy's name, nothing came out. He stared at him, puzzled. _That's odd_…he really felt like he should know him.

"Why did you come?"

"I had to get something back," he replied.

"What?" the boy asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

"I…don't remember. But it was something important."

"What were you going to trade?"

"Trade?"

The boy gestured towards the black doorway looming behind him. "Equivalent Exchange."

"Oh!" He put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a watch. "I brought this!" He was happy to have remembered _something_, at least.

The boy looked at him skeptically. "I don't think you can get much for a pocket watch. But did you come _out _of the Gate, or are you trying to go in?"

"I don't…I'm not sure." He frowned, trying to concentrate on _something_.

"You would know," the boy assured him. "Unless," another thought occurred to him, "unless you've forgotten?" He looked at him more closely. "You seem…different," he said suspiciously.

"How am I usually? Do you know me?" he asked hopefully.

The boy's eyes widened and he took a few steps back. At that moment, the Gate opened, and several long skinny arms with small black hands shot out, snatching the pocket watch dangling from his hand and pawing at his shoulders. When it slammed shut again, they were both left in pitch darkness.

* * *

Edward woke up with a groan. _What happened?_ He felt sore all over, as if he'd been pummeled. He blinked a few times; the light gave him a headache. He moved to put an arm across his face – at least his arm still worked. He experimentally wiggled his fingers on both hands…they didn't _seem_ broken. But when he went to roll over, pain lanced his side. He hissed, and propped himself up on one elbow so he wouldn't have to move his midsection. It didn't help. That's when he saw the blood – he was _drenched_ in it – it was spattered all around him on the sidewalk.

"Wha- Al?"

He looked around, but he seemed alone. No suit of armor hovered over him anxiously. It was…quiet. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to survey his surroundings. The wound in his abdomen was letting its presence be felt, urgently, but he tried to ignore it. He wasn't alone. There was a body not twenty feet from him, face down and motionless. He winced – that wasn't his doing, was it? One of his trademark spears lay on the ground near the body, and there was blood on it. He looked up and down the side street, seeing evidence of his fight – broken columns of rock sprung from the ground and the walls, while everything was covered in black soot. A massive explosion? Must've knocked him out. Maybe the other guy was just knocked out, not dead. Military pants, white shirt and black hair were all he could see of the man with a small build. He scooted closer, doubled over from the pain in his side. When he moved, he saw that he'd been practically leaning on a transmutation circle, but he ignored it for now. "Hey, mister?" he rasped hoarsely. "You okay?" No response. But at that moment, a clatter of boots got his attention.

"I've found them! They're over here!" the man called, before several soldiers rushed over to them. "Major Elric, sir, are you okay?" the MP asked him anxiously.

"It's my side," Edward admitted in a whisper, pointing.

His shirt was stuck to his skin by the blood, so the MP only poked at it gingerly, not attempting to remove it and get a better look at the deep gash. Then he spotted the blood pool just behind Edward, and his eyes widened. "We should get you to a doctor right away, sir!"

"How is…the other guy?" he asked as he was loaded onto a stretcher.

The men glanced at each other. "I'm sure Colonel Mustang will be fine when he wakes up." Edward couldn't decide whether this was good news or bad news, but when he lay back on the stretcher, his eyes closed, and the voices around him slowly faded to a buzz.

* * *

He blinked.

"Brother?!" an anxious voice greeted his return to reality.

"Al, you're okay," he croaked groggily. "Wha-? Why's ev'rything so-?"

"Painkillers," Al grimaced. "For your side. You had a nasty cut, so they stitched it up. And a couple of ribs are broken."

Something wasn't right. Al sounded…guilty. "Not your fault," Ed mumbled. "Stupid homunculus."

"I should have been there, Brother. I was stupid, to let them draw us apart like that."

Ed shook his head, eyes closed. "Nah, I'm the one who ran off."

"If you weren't already hurt, I would hit you for that," Al accused.

Ed just smirked. "Wait till I'm better." He didn't hear whatever his brother said in reply, because he was already asleep.

* * *

The next day, Ed was eating with gusto, drinking down broth as fast as the nurses would bring it to him. Al encouraged him, knowing he had lost a lot of blood.

"So, Al, what aren't you telling me?" Ed asked lightly, reaching for another bread roll.

"N-nothing!" Al stammered, holding his hands up in front of him and waving them back and forth frantically. He looked very guilty, despite trying to appear innocent. Neither brother could hide things from the other for long. Ed looked at him, his expression clearly saying, _Just tell me already._

"It's…it's the Colonel," Al said quietly.

Ed's hand paused, halfway to his mouth. "What happened?" he asked, horror written on his face. "Did he -?"

"No!" Al shook his helmet fiercely. "He's alive. But-" He stopped.

"But what? What is it, Al? Tell me!" Ed demanded.

"You'll…you'll have to see him yourself," Al said uncomfortably.

"Then take me to him!"

"He was here earlier, when you were asleep."

"Then, he's okay? He's not hospitalized?" Ed asked. "What'd you get me all worked up for?"

"You have to see him," Al repeated.

"Then go tell him I want to see him right now, and no smart remarks about how surprised he is by my saying so. He better get his sorry ass in here before the day is over!"

* * *

"_Lieutenant? This is Alphonse."_

"_Hello, Alphonse. How is your brother?"_

"_He's doing better today. He's asking for the Colonel."_

There was a pause on the other end. _"I see. I suppose I could bring him by today."_

"_Oh, thank you! I don't know how to tell Brother…"_

"_I understand. We'll stop by in three hours and see if he's awake."_

"_Thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye."_

"_Not at all, Alphonse."_

* * *

Ed was asleep when Al returned from making the phone call, but it was just a light doze. He woke up in a couple of hours demanding more food. He was therefore alert and fed when Hawkeye knocked on his door. Al opened it, and both soldiers walked in.

"Hello, Edward," Mustang said, with his usual smug expression. Ed looked at him closely. Apart from being a bit greyer than usual, he looked fine.

"Hey, Colonel, they had me all worried about you, but – " his voice trailed off as he remembered something, and his face went white. "You were there! At…at the Gate!" He pointed an accusing finger at him. "Why?"

"You weren't breathing when I found you. Haven't you noticed that those stitches are on both your stomach and your back? The cut went clean through." He said this easily, as if he weren't discussing a crisis.

Edward gaped, his mouth opening and closing with a slight _pop_. "What? Are you telling me I _died?_"

"No, I don't think so, but it was a close thing." Mustang shrugged. "You were pretty far gone."

"But, wait, how? How did you open the Gate?" Edward asked uneasily. Human transmutation never went well – he should know.

"I transmuted myself," Mustang explained. "Using your trick," he nodded in acknowledgement. "I knew that would get me there, and then it was just a matter of Exchange."

"You…you were going to trade your pocket watch for my _life?"_ Ed asked, enraged. "_That_ was your brilliant plan? You cocky bastard!"

"Please, Edward, you weren't dead. At least, I don't think you were. Just in need of some emergency surgery. There was damage to the internal organs and not enough time to get you to a proper hospital. I thought it was rather clever of me to pull that off without losing any body parts."

Ed looked at the man suspiciously. All his limbs were accounted for, but that didn't mean he was okay internally. He narrowed his eyes, but Mustang didn't cough up blood or betray any other pain. "What…what did you lose?" Ed swallowed, suddenly feeling queasy. Maybe he didn't want to know. But he couldn't _not_ ask!

"Just my pocket watch and my jacket." Hawkeye gave Mustang a dirty look, but kept her mouth shut.

"What?!" Ed exploded. "I gave an arm and a leg, and I didn't get my brother's body _or_ my mother back, yet you hand over a lousy _uniform_ and get what you wanted?" He would have leapt out of bed to throttle the man, but at that moment his stitches decided to remind him that he was still, in fact, very much injured.

"Brother – " Al warned.

"You can't cheat the Gate, Edward," Mustang shrugged. "I paid what I could."

"I'm sure you'll miss your uniform jacket," Ed said sarcastically. "They can whip up another for you by next week. Or do they not make medals for the Ishbal campaign any more?" he asked, rubbing his chin. Rather than being grateful that the cost was so low, he felt cheated that his life was worth so little.

"Colonel Mustang has resigned from his post, and will no longer be in the military beginning next week." Hawkeye could no longer stand quietly by and listen to Ed's unwarranted abuse. She knew it was the Colonel's job to handle this, but he was doing such a spectacularly poor job of it. It was time for her to intervene.

Ed looked back and forth between her and Mustang, trying to see the trick. But she seemed serious, and he had never known Hawkeye to tease - about anything, let alone something like this. And the Colonel wasn't denying her. Even creepier, he didn't seem the least bit upset about that.

"But that's…I mean…your career…your goal…we all know…what?" Ed babbled for a moment. "What...what did the Gate _really_ take?" he asked quietly, _knowing_ he didn't want to hear the answer this time.

"Just my jacket," Mustang answered just as quietly. "And, apparently, the ambition that went with it."

"You…you can still work without that, can't you?" Ed asked desperately.

"Apparently not," his superior answered with a faint smile, looking away from Hawkeye.

"But…but…you saw the Truth! You were inside the Gate. Can't you…"

"Truth alone is not enough to push you towards a goal, Edward. The Truth did not propel you forward to save your brother." He looked at Alphonse as he said it, not looking Ed in the eye.

"No, it didn't – _you_ did! You were the one who showed me how to follow that path! You can't just give up on your goals now." But his voice tapered off into a quiet whine. He didn't know what else to say.

Mustang shook his head. "That drive was already there; I merely directed it."

Suddenly, Ed realized something. "But that's not all the Truth does. You saw inside the Gate, so you can transmute without a circle now, can't you?"

"It took my jacket…and my pocket watch," Mustang clarified. "I remember seeing what lies within the Gate, but…" his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, Edward. I guess I really am useless now."

"You…no. You're not saying you can't do alchemy anymore?!"

"I remember _how_… it just doesn't…." He frowned. "But I'm glad to see you awake and well, Edward," he said, changing the subject abruptly. "I'll try to come by tomorrow if - ?" But he looked to Hawkeye, not Ed, for permission. She nodded to him. He said his goodbyes, but Ed just stared at him wordlessly.

Hawkeye turned in the doorway. "Get well soon, Edward," she said quietly. He just nodded mutely. This was…too much.

* * *

"Al?" he asked later that night. He'd been unusually quiet and subdued ever since Mustang left, barely picking at his food, and not sleeping, either. Al could tell when his brother was faking it, and he'd just lain there curled on his side all afternoon.

"I'm here, Ed."

"It's…it's all my fault. If I hadn't nearly died, the Colonel wouldn't have thrown his own life away."

"I would have done the same, Brother, if I had been the one to find you," Al admitted.

"No, Al! I don't want you to die so I can live!"

"But the Colonel's not dead. He's not even hurt, really," Al said doubtfully.

"Don't be a fool, Al. He gave up something that means more to him than this leg ever did to me," Ed twitched his left leg under the sheet. "And no surgeon can help him get by, either."

Ed scowled at the window, thinking as hard as he could. Al waited patiently, giving his brother time to work this out. "But…the goal was never really about Mustang, was it?" he asked after a long pause. "It was just to fix Amestris. It doesn't have to be him. Does it?"

"Are you saying _you_ want to be Führer, Brother?" Al asked in surprise.

"Of course not! Only an egotistical maniac with a god-complex would want that job," Ed said with disdain. "But…"

"But you're thinking about it," his brother finished for him.

Ed nodded. "After we get your body back," he amended, looking at his brother. "We wanted to have a goal for afterwards, and I think I just found mine."

Al thought about it for awhile and then nodded. "Right. After we get _both_ our bodies back, we'll make sure this country doesn't use its military to make another Ishbal."

"We owe it to him," Ed said. "And not just him, but Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Brigadier General Hughes, and everyone else who ever believed in Mustang's goal. If we don't…his sacrifice for me would just be a waste."

* * *

_Author's Notes: _I wrote this as a stand-alone on April Fool's Day, because the idea originally came from the image of Roy Mustang standing at the Gate and offering it silly stuff (like his watch). I want to continue writing about what would happen in this AU, but it's going to be difficult to write such an OOC Mustang. So, we'll see how that goes!


	2. Role Reversal

Role Reversal

The door was opened in faint surprise, and the man standing there just stared at him, without inviting him in.

"I was in town, so I thought I'd stop by," the young alchemist informed him, brushing past and into the house. He seemed oblivious to the fact that they had not seen each other in nearly two years.

"Where's Alphonse?" Mustang asked, surprised to see only one Elric at a time.

"He's with me, but I didn't want to get his hopes up. This was mostly an impromptu visit." Ed was examining a picture on the wall, not looking at the man whose space he had just invaded. "Where's the Major?" he asked, trying to be casual.

"She's not a babysitter. I don't need _constant_ supervision."

"I never said that. I just figured you two would be married by now."

Mustang snorted at him. "Please. I don't have anything to offer the girl who sells sandwiches down the street these days, let alone someone like Hawkeye. She's out of my league; always has been."

"That lack of confidence doesn't suit you, Colonel," Ed said with a frown, finally looking at the man who was, he noticed for the first time, not that much taller than he was. It didn't occur to him that he had grown.

"I've changed. And I'm not a Colonel," he informed his guest.

Ed just turned and continued walking into the house. "Would you rather I call you _Bastard_?" he shot back over his shoulder, proceeding to inspect the living room with a critical eye. Not too neat – it had a cluttered feel. But not a mess, and not too dusty, either. Someone was taking care of the place, seemingly.

"I'm not illegitimate, either. I have my father's name…unlike some people." Mustang stood in the doorway of the living room, looking none too pleased with the abrupt intrusion.

Edward stopped his scrutiny abruptly and slowly turned to face the man. "Sit down, you manipulative bastard, and answer my questions," he said, clearly pissed off.

"It's my house, Edward," he said, not moving.

"Then offer me a seat already! I don't want to trade insults with you all day. The sooner you talk to me, the sooner you get rid of me."

Mustang folded his arms across his chest and asked, "Why are you here?"

Ed flopped down on the couch. "Because I need to get some things straight. That day in the hospital, you goaded me on purpose, didn't you? You _wanted _me to get angry."

"I've always goaded you, Edward."

"Wrong! You always goaded Fullmetal. My professional name. Edward was the name of the kid you always kept at arm's length and made every effort not to get to know."

Roy raised an eyebrow at him appraisingly, and took a seat himself. "And what if I did?" he asked quietly.

"I need to know how much of you is left," Edward explained bluntly. "Is it just a couple of limbs, or is it everything?"

"I'm intact."

"Like hell you are! But if you did that on purpose, you knew… you knew what that would mean to me. Didn't you?"

"My ambition, my goal…was never to manipulate people."

"Aha! So you _can _still play the game. That's what I needed to know."

"No, Edward, I can't. Playing that game takes dedication, which I sorely lack these days."

"Do you want to see Amestris under different leadership?"

Mustang shrugged. "It would be nice."

Ed eyed him, chewing his lip and thinking. Only the ambition was lacking, he told himself, but it was hard to see the implications.

"Would you help me?"

"It depends what you want. You know I'd do anything to…"

"Ha! I knew it! You'll be perfect."

"For what, Ed?" he asked with a knowing smirk.

"You're going to plan my coup."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you may lack the drive to get to the top, but you've got what it takes to put me there. I can't do what you did – I rush in, and make a mess of things. But you were always a good planner – and you haven't lost that." Ed stood up, and brushed off his pants. "I'll be back, with Al. Make sure Hawkeye is here, and we'll have our first war council." He smiled at his old superior officer, and after an abrupt bow, turned his back and walked out.

* * *

The meeting was scheduled for the next week. Ed and Al knocked on Mustang's door, and it was opened by Hawkeye. For a council of war, it was very subdued. The brothers were nervous, and their energy showed as they fidgeted next to one another on the couch, but Hawkeye calmly served them tea. They got right to the point.

"The Colonel did something for me I can't repay," Ed said, half scowling. "It's my stupid fault he wound up this way, and so I owe him."

"I am in the room," Mustang said, but didn't correct Ed's use of his rank this time.

"What Brother _means_ is that we're very sorry we ruined your goal, and we'd like to do what we can to make up for that." He gave Ed a pointed look that could be interpreted '_Grow up.'_

"The goal is good. I…we all…have always supported what you wanted to do. But now it looks like you can't do it yourself." Ed took a deep breath. "So…I want to do it for you."

"So you were serious."

"That's what you wanted, isn't it? That's why you goaded me, didn't you?"

Mustang just leaned back in his chair and looked at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"But I can't. Not on my own," Ed continued. "Even the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Hero of the People, can't just change the country by wishing for it. I've given it some thought, but I can't see how to get there. I'm gonna need some help. A lot of it. And I hate asking, but if you three won't help me, there's no point in my even trying."

He looked at Al, who was watching the other two people in the room closely. Ed turned to Hawkeye first.

"My dream has always been for people of this country to be able to live happily," she said quietly. "If you are able to accomplish what we've always wanted, then I will support you in the same way I have supported Roy Mustang," she continued evenly. The hard look she gave Ed belied her encouraging words.

He looked at her, confused. "Thank you. I – "

"Careful, Edward," Mustang interrupted. "Aren't you going to ask her what she means by that?" He seemed to be enjoying the conversation entirely too much, considering they were talking about replacing him.

"But I want your support…don't I?" he asked Hawkeye. "What am I missing here?"

"The biggest risk is not failure, Edward," Mustang answered him. "If you aim for the top, and miss, you will have failed in your goal, but no harm will be done. If you reach the top, and yet lose sight of your goal – a corrupt leader can do quite a bit of damage. She just made it clear that she supports the goal, _not_ the person."

"So, what, if I start to screw this up, you'll find someone else to back?"

"No, Edward," she said. "If you screw this up, then I will shoot you in the back."

His face blanched. "Is that really…necessary? I mean, Al would beat me to a pulp if I did anything really out of line." They all knew that Ed's definition of 'really out of line' was rather different from most people's…but probably suitable, in this situation.

She shrugged. "That was how I supported him."

"And you knew this?" he asked, whipping around to face Mustang again. "Did you know she might shoot you?"

"Of course. I asked her to. You don't think she'd threaten someone with that herself, do you?"

"You people are crazy," Ed said at last, shaking his head. "I mean, I always suspected that, but…."

"Let me have that job," Al spoke up suddenly. "If anyone has to take him down, it should be me."

"Hey, I'm still here!" Ed said, indignantly. "I don't want people sitting around talking about stabbing me in the back."

"I don't use knives," Hawkeye said quickly.

"That's not the point!"

"But I agree," she continued, ignoring him. "Alphonse is close enough to you to know what is really going on. He will be less likely to misunderstand." She and Al looked at one another and nodded their agreement. Then she turned back to Ed. "But I will support you wholeheartedly in your goal, Edward, and do everything I can to protect you as you go for the presidency."

"Thank you. This already isn't going as I planned, though, so it's a good thing I have at least some support. Do you think the others will -?"

"If we are agreed on going through with this, I will try to get as many of Mustang's former supporters to back you as I can. It shouldn't be difficult, but it will take time."

"I'm not in any rush," Ed assured her. "I'll be the youngest president as it is."

If Mustang murmured something that sounded like '_shortest'_ at this point, no one acknowledged him.

She smiled faintly. "My grandfather will be disappointed, though. I don't suppose there's much chance I'll be first lady now."

Ed sputtered over his tea, coughing terribly. "What?!"

"He used to badger me about that," Mustang said with a shrug. There was something like regret in his eyes as he looked past Edward at the wall. "But I guess you have a lot of work to do, if you want to fill _my_ shoes," he continued, smirking as he met the younger man's eyes.

"I'm just going to change the way this country is run, I'm not going to date every girl in Central," Ed said with a roll of his eyes. But his blush hadn't gone away yet. "One of you was quite enough in the world."

"So, Edward, what's the plan?" Mustang asked, curious, but not…not something. It was so strange, seeing him _almost_ normal. His old carefully cultivated indifference had more fire behind it than this bland curiosity did.

"There isn't really one. I guess I just hoped I'd pick up wherever you left off, and…"

Mustang sat up with a frown. "That won't do. You need to be better prepared for something like this."

Ed smirked at him. "That's where you come in. You might not care a twig about what we're doing anymore, but you know how to do it. You're going to teach me."

"What makes you think…I'll have enough dedication to finish the job, once I start it?" he asked uneasily.

"You bastard – you gave that all up to save _me_. If you let me go after Military Command without any help, my death certificate will have your name under 'Cause of Death.' So, figure it out."

"In that case," he smiled slowly, "you leave me little choice. I'll have to…" He swallowed. "I'll have to stay in the background, and push you to the top." His smile wavered for a moment, but other than that, he seemed to hold himself steady.

Hawkeye looked at him sharply. "Sir?" she said quietly, but he ignored her, looking at his hands.

"I just can't believe you _want_ to teach my brother," Al said, trying to lighten the tension.

"I think I should get some credit for agreeing to listen to him," Ed retorted.

Not much practical was determined during the first meeting. Just that Hawkeye should keep the brothers informed, and that they would work with Mustang to develop a plan. They spent most of their time talking about the original plan Mustang and Hughes had developed after Ishbal. Hawkeye thought that since Ed and Al weren't there, they had a right to know what had happened so they would understand what, precisely, needed to be changed.

* * *

The next time Ed and Al returned to Mustang's house, it was months later. They had been keeping in touch with Hawkeye, and she instructed them to call in advance, not just barge in on the man. It was late summer, and he took them to his backyard to talk. Like the living room, it was messy but not overrun. The lawn had brown patches where the summer heat had proven too much for the grass. The man had some flowers and vegetables growing back there, and evidence of his dog. Some sort of medium-sized mutt, it had long sandy hair and was content to lay on the porch throughout their talk. It took to Al right away, but growled at Ed as he walked by. They sat on wooden benches and drank ice water.

"I know both you boys are used to planning and fighting. There's little I can teach you there. But…how much do you know of strategy?"

"It's just planning on a bigger scale," Ed shrugged, not making much of the distinction.

"True – so it requires different skills. Patience. You must sit and watch your plan unfold, waiting months or even years until it is able to play out before your eyes. I know you have the drive and dedication to pull that off, but –" He looked at Ed skeptically._ 'Patience'_ wasn't really a word that leapt to mind when you thought of Edward Elric.

"I'm not fifteen any more," he pointed out. "Al and I are both growing up, and we can learn patience just like we've learned everything else."

Mustang acknowledged that. "You'll need both patience and guile. Dishonesty has never been your strong suit. Everyone knows when you're lying."

"I don't lie!"

"Refusing to tell the truth, then."

"Brother can keep secrets," Al said, not contradicting either of them.

"Yes, but he'll have to learn to look people in the face and tell them what he has to, so that they will think what he wants them to think. That is harder than just keeping your mouth shut or sputtering your denial."

Ed frowned, but didn't contradict him.

"Your strategy will have to be different from mine, because you will be able to rely on different support than I did."

Al nodded his agreement, but Ed squinted his eyes, suspicious.

"Not everyone will support you, so you will have to figure out how to neutralize your enemies."

"You mean kill them?" Ed said abruptly.

Mustang laughed. "Hardly! But give them a reason to fear you, or owe you, or make sure their voice is silenced. You can do all of these things without killing people. It's called politics and diplomacy."

They spent most of the meeting discussing who Edward could rely on for support, and how this network could be used. Mustang said very little about what his own plans had been in this regard. He did identify a few people that Ed would have to win over to his side if he wanted to get anything done.

"I expect this list to be longer next time," he said as the brothers left. "But be honest – wishful thinking does not help anyone."

"We're alchemists; we prefer the truth," Ed said. Al petted the dog, distracting it enough to let Ed walk through the house to leave.

* * *

"I never realized…how…human…the Colonel is," Ed said as he and his brother walked back to their hotel. "I mean, he has a garden of sorts, and a dog. He just…I've never seen that side of him."

"He's probably not used to seeing us outside of work, either," Al reminded him.

"This is still work, Al, even if he's not wearing a uniform. Think of it as…training."

Al shuddered. "He's not as scary as Teacher, but…he's not as nice as her, either."

"At least he's less likely to beat us up," Ed said with a scowl. "I'm sick of hotel food," he said, changing the subject. "Let's get groceries." Al agreed, knowing it would mean that he would cook.

* * *

The next time, the leaves were changing color. Edward came alone, because Alphonse was travelling. He called in the morning, and spoke with a very sleepy-sounding Mustang.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, not very apologetically.

"I don't exactly have to be into the office these days," Mustang replied cryptically.

"Well, wake up, I'll be there in an hour," Ed informed him, before heading down to breakfast at his hotel.

Mustang looked groomed when Ed arrived, and the breakfast dishes had been cleared away when they sat down at the kitchen table. They were all piled in the sink.

"The list is longer, and I've got Al making overtures to some of those people you mentioned," he said, as if no time had passed since the last time they had spoken. They went over the list for the greater part of the morning, Mustang questioning Ed on his assumptions, but mostly just getting to know what type of people Ed trusted. When they finished, Mustang stood to make them sandwiches for lunch.

"What's that for?" Ed asked, gesturing to the gun on Mustang's belt. "You're home now; you aren't in the military. What, are you afraid of burglars or something?"

So direct. That was Ed all over. Mustang shrugged. He nodded at the gun. "A bad habit I picked up from Hawkeye, I suppose." He went back to slicing pickles.

"Did she give that to you?" he asked, starting to understand.

He nodded. "She said even an idiot who didn't practice can pull a trigger."

"Sounds about right."

"I do practice, though," he said quietly.

"Miss your gloves, then?"

Mustang turned to look at him witheringly. "I'm not interested in your smart remarks. If you clapped, and _nothing_ happened, don't tell me you wouldn't be devastated."

Ed's jaw clicked shut, but only for a moment. "But…that's different. You've never been able to do what I do." He regretted it as soon as he said it.

"Don't do this, Ed," Mustang growled, exasperated. "I remember the Gate – if I could still do alchemy, I _would_ be able to do what you do. I know how."

"Are you sure? I mean, do you really remember? You were so…out of it…when I saw you there."

"And you were strangely relaxed," Mustang said. "Yes, I remember, but I don't think you understand…you were just a kid when you saw all of that."

Ed bristled instantly. "I might have been young, but I already knew more about alchemy than most adults."

Mustang waved him aside. "I know that. That's not what I meant. Kids are…accepting. They just take everything in stride. They're resilient. Seeing the Gate, while no doubt terrifying, didn't…didn't overwhelm you." Mustang, who never stumbled over his words, was having difficulty explaining. "It's different for an adult."

Ed shook his head. "But Teacher was an adult when she saw it –"

Roy shuddered. "That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?" The Elric brothers loved their teacher, and Ed was prepared to be quite defensive on her behalf.

"You didn't know her before that, did you? I doubt she was always that way." He paused, considering. "At least it didn't make me that scary."

"If you're that upset about what it did to you, why are you so calm about it all the time?" Ed asked, confused. That was what he could not understand. Mustang had…so little complaint about his life being ruined, usually. But then he would say things like this, and it just didn't add up.

"It's like people who're insane – they don't know there's anything wrong with them."

"You're not crazy or stupid. At least, you'd better not be, or I'm screwed."

Roy shook his head. "No, I know what happened. But since I don't _have_ any ambition, I don't miss it. If I…remembered what it was like, then maybe…I would feel differently."

"That's why the alchemy bothers you more. You still know about that."

Mustang nodded. "But most people live without alchemy. I get by just fine."

"And carry a gun, even in your own house." Ed was not fooled.

He shrugged. "No one's perfect." He rolled his shoulders back. "Now, tell me what you did wrong in this conversation."

"What? You mean, this was some sort of test? And here I thought you were actually telling me stuff."

"You spoke, when I warned you not to, which shows blatant disregard for the other person – pure arrogance. I told you that your own perspective was limited, but rather than trying to figure out what I was talking about, you immediately leapt to the defense of someone who wasn't here. You'll never find out what you need to know that way."

"And what do I need to know?"

Mustang shrugged. "Everything. You never know."

Ed sulked. "I don't think I can do this. I'm not you."

He was surprised when Mustang agreed with him. "You're right, you'll never be me. You have to do this your way, not mine."

"And what is my way?" Ed asked, suspicions returning.

"Direct, not subtle. Lightning, not sunrise. I was going to rise in the ranks until I reached the top…naturally. You're going to have to seize it."

"You…you've been planning that all along?" Ed asked, not comfortable with this development.

"So were you – you recruited me to plan a coup, not to teach you politics, regardless of what you said in front of Hawkeye and Alphonse. Don't you remember?"

"That was supposed to be…a metaphor."

Mustang shrugged. "In your case, it's the best option. You have more support among the people than among the echelons of power."

Ed frowned, thrown off balance. "A coup sounds bloody."

"It doesn't have to be, but it does involve force."

"If you topple the leaders, don't they end up…dead?"

"Not if you do it the right way. They could just end up condemned war criminals."

Something about that sounded too specific to be a casual example. "That was…that was part of your plan, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "Sometimes I hoped to be removed from power myself in a sort of bloodless coup."

"Wait…you had already orchestrated your own downfall?"

"I never planned to die a dictator. I had to see an end of my time…and that meant considering a transition of power."

"You're either brilliant or crazy," Ed said, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm listening to you."

"Neither can I," said Mustang, putting down the sandwiches on the table.

Ed forgot to thank him, and just glared. "So that smirk wasn't part of your ambition, was it?"

He shook his head. "I didn't die that day, Edward. I'm still Roy Mustang."

"But you're…you're so different. It's like talking to a different person. You're…"

"I'm a broken old man before I've even reached forty. Strange, but no worse than what happens to many other people in life."

"But how can that not bother you! You aren't the type of person to just roll over and take it! I don't understand… I just can't see you like this."

Instead of stomping off as if he were twelve years old, he chose to stuff the sandwich in his mouth and eat in silence. Mustang left him to his guilt.

* * *

The next time the brothers were in Central, they called Mustang as soon as their train arrived. Even though it was already early afternoon, he sounded as if they had woken him up. He seemed very hesitant. "Maybe tomorrow. Call me in the morning."

They decided to go see Hawkeye instead. She was happy to meet with them, and they exchanged news and updates. When they mentioned Mustang's request, though, the smile faded from her eyes. "He has…bad days…sometimes."

They pressed her for details. "There's a reason he's not working, and just living off his pension and odd jobs," she said reluctantly. "He's…he finds it very difficult to stick with anything. Sometimes, he doesn't manage to accomplish anything all day, beyond taking care of the dog." She frowned. "I don't want you to be disappointed if he's not up to meeting with you tomorrow."

Al watched the guilt settle in on Ed's shoulders, but when he spoke, it was determination in his voice. "We'll keep coming back to Central. There's plenty we can do here, and no rush. But we aren't going to leave without at least stopping by. He deserves that much."

She smiled at him. "It's good he has friends like you. The two of you mean more to him than you know."

Ed looked almost shocked by that, but quickly changed the subject.

* * *

Back in the hotel, he lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "What do you think of Mustang, Al?"

His brother turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when we were boys…the first time we met him…I trusted him. I don't know why. Later, when I'd joined the military, I grew to hate everything he stood for. Now…now I don't know."

"Now you feel responsible for him, which isn't quite the same thing as friends," Al finished. He had noticed his brother's reaction to the Major's words, and thought that was what brought this on.

"What do _you_ think, though?"

Al didn't answer right away. "He saved you on that day, the same as when you saved my soul from being lost to the Gate," he said at last. Ed sat up, and looked at him in surprise. "So that makes him more than a friend, doesn't it? It's like…it's like he's family."

Ed let his shoulders slump. "No, Al, it's not like that at all. I trust you with my life. I'd do anything for you. Whereas Mustang…he might not even bother to get dressed so we can visit him tomorrow. But not because he doesn't care…but because…he _can't. _Because of me. He's…my mistake."

"Brother, it was his choice," Al insisted. "He made the trade because he wanted to. He'd rather see you alive and well than chase his dream. And if we realize it for him…then what will he have truly lost?"

"Equivalent exchange. He gave his dream for my life, so I give my life to his dream. Sounds so simple when you put it that way."

"Alchemy's always simpler on paper," Al teased. "Just circles and lines, with a few symbols added…it's when you try to make it work that it gets complicated."

"Tell me about it! And I thought finding the Philosopher's Stone or fighting homunculi was hard – taking over a whole country is a much bigger task."

* * *

_Author's Note:_ This was supposed to be a one-shot. But then I started thinking about what the ramifications would be, so it kept going.

"You call him Dr. Jones, doll!" "My professional name." - Indiana Jones

"Oh good, my way. What way is my way?" - Fezzik, The Princess Bride


	3. Change of Plans

**Change of Plans**

Ed stormed up to his house, unannounced, once again alone. "You knew," he said accusingly.

"I usually do. But what was I supposed to have known this time?"

Ed just slapped the newspaper down, and the picture of Olivia Armstrong, newly-selected President of Amestris, stared back at them. "You knew she was planning this."

"Edward, they thought I was ambitious because I made Colonel well before thirty. You weren't really planning to make President before twenty, were you? We always knew you wouldn't be _next._"

"But, this throws everything off! She'll change things, but not what we _want_ changed."

"It's a step in the right direction, actually. She will have the good of Amestris at heart. Her family has always been loyal to this country."

"But…"

"Yes, I know. We're not going to see any reduction in border wars or military power with her at the helm. But she's a…a clean choice. Armstrongs can't tolerate the smell of corruption. It offends their aristocratic noses."

Ed digested all of this, clearly unhappy, but unable to argue with it. He knew he'd have to do some work to avoid being trampled in the new regime, but he probably could make the most of it. It just meant changing everything….

He looked up. Roy Mustang was looking at him strangely, a wistful stare. "What is it?" Ed asked uncomfortably.

"I'm just thinking."

"Dangerous words." From Ed, that was an invitation.

"When we returned from the war in Ishbal, I was not much older than you are now. We were all so convinced that it was the end, and that any changes would have to be orchestrated by us. Seeing you now, I realize how…small…our dreams were. It is better to leave such work in the hands of innocents. I wanted to atone for what I had done – change this country as quickly as possible. But we who wrought that destruction had no business running the country. The dream was not for us. We always meant it for the next generation, but we didn't realize that it would be you fulfilling it. I suppose this is part of my payment – to stand back and watch."

He smiled, and Ed realized, again, that he was not upset about any of this.

"You…you don't mind me taking your place?" he asked hesitantly, not sure that 'innocent' was a good way of describing him and Al.

He shook his head. "Not now. I might have moped around feeling useless for awhile," he acknowledged. "But now that I know that it is happening, and I _am_ doing what I can to help…well, I haven't let Hughes down yet. And he'd approve of you, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, he'd want you to get a wife first, of course. Can't run a country without one of those." He did an uncanny impersonation of his dead friend's voice.

"Why not?" Ed asked, more nervous than flustered.

"When you're at the top, everyone around you will either tear you to pieces or bow to your every whim. It's dangerous not to have an equal who is an uncompromising supporter."

"Oh," Ed said, relieved. "I've got Al for that. I was afraid you were going to tell me I had to marry into some old family or something."

"Afraid a country girl won't feel at home in Central?" he asked, knowingly.

Ed ignored him.

"Though, it might be more diplomatic to marry a princess from Xing or something," Roy continued. "That's always an option. I hear the women there are beautiful."

Ed seethed, but studiously ignored him…for ten more seconds.

"You're here to advise me on politics and conquest, not marriage," he bit out. "Back to the matter at hand. Explain to me how you think we can build a Congress now without tearing the whole country apart again?"

"In Xing, the emperor just marries a girl from each clan," Roy mused. "You could always try to introduce that idea."

"Argh! You are sooooo frustrating. Next time I'm sending Al to deal with you." He stood up and paced back and forth.

"You still don't like me, do you…Fullmetal?" Roy said, the name sounding unfamiliar in his mouth.

Ed stopped his pacing. "No, I don't. You toy with me. You've always done that. I never know what's really going on. But," he looked away. "I do trust you, and I know you have more of an idea about this stuff than I do. That's why I agreed to work with you." He turned back to face Roy. "But if you keep up your antics, I will kick your dog. You have been warned."

"At least your leg isn't made of steel any more. Maybe I should call you Halfmetal."

"Why do you have to call me anything? Can't you just work on the task at hand?"

"You've…never forgiven me for saving you, have you?"

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" Ed asked, not following this turn in the conversation.

Roy shrugged. "You tell me."

"I...wouldn't mind as much, if you hadn't lost so much. I never _asked _you to give all this up!" He waved a hand, vaguely gesturing in the direction of Headquarters.

"Did Al _ask_ you to give up your arm for him?"

"That's different!" Ed pulled his arm to his chest defensively. "He's my brother! He's all I have…"

"And my subordinates were all I had," Roy shot back. "I swore to myself, after Ishbal, that I would do everything within my power to protect them. I would have done the same for Havoc or Hawkeye, if they had been the ones bleeding out when I found them."

Ed looked at him suspiciously. "Really?"

"I'll never find out, now. It was you, so you were the one I wrested back from death. The others didn't need it." He said nothing about being haunted by a missed phone call and a blood-stained phone booth…but he didn't have to.

Ed thought about his words for awhile, then narrowed his eyes as if he didn't fully believe it. But he didn't say anything more. Asking why he hadn't tried to bring Hughes back after his death wasn't a fair question. The whole conversation wasn't fair. Time to change the subject.

Ed flexed his automail hand. "You know, you could have done me a favor and asked the Gate for my arm back, while you were there."

Roy stilled, and looked at Ed warily. He hadn't expected the tables to turn so quickly. But he said nothing.

"What? It's not like people see the Gate every day," Ed went on. "You could have got the arm while you were there for the rest of me. Like buying eggs and milk on the same trip as when you get the bread."

"Edward, I'm sorry." The voice was a whisper.

"Hey, I was kidding!" He looked at Roy in alarm. "I didn't mean it! I mean, the Gate's not exactly the market! Hey!"

He didn't know why Ed was getting so flustered, until he realized that he was tearing up. "Don't think…I didn't ask," he said finally, when he was sure the tears wouldn't fall.

"You…you did?" Ed sat back stunned.

Roy nodded carefully. "But I couldn't pay the price for your missing limbs, so I took what I could."

Ed watched Roy curl into himself, and knew he was ashamed. He wanted, very badly, to ask what price the Gate had demanded for his arm and leg. But he didn't dare. "I wouldn't let Al pay the toll they asked of him, either. My arm was a fair exchange for being able to keep my brother's soul with me those years. I never could have done what I did without him. Just think what I would have done, if you'd come back missing something else," he said lightly. "Al and I would never let you hear the end of it."

Roy shook his head, and abruptly insisted they discuss finances. It wasn't until days later that Ed realized what he meant. He wouldn't have _come_ back, had he paid any more.

* * *

The next time the brothers contacted Roy, it wasn't for their plot. Al called him up.

"_Guess where I am?" _he asked happily.

"_Central train station?"_ Roy asked.

"_No, I'm at Mrs. Hughes! Would you like to come over?"_

"_What is the occasion?"_ He asked calmly.

"_My birthday," _Al announced, and he could hear Elysia in the background laughing. The giggling of a young girl was annoying, Roy thought, but if he could tolerate it from anyone, it would be her.

"_I'll come,"_ he agreed. When he put down the phone, he stared at it for awhile. He took a deep breath, and then went to change and make himself presentable.

* * *

He took his coat off and greeted Elysia, who shouted, "Uncle Roy!" before being picked up and spun around.

"I didn't realize it was your birthday, Al," Roy remarked when he made his way past the front door, still carrying the young girl. "How old are you now?"

"Three," Edward said with a smirk.

"I have two birthdays now," Al explained. "My original one, and the day I got my body back."

"I'm older than him," Elysia announced solemnly, and everyone laughed. He'd never seen the Hughes' kitchen empty, and today was no exception. Roy finally put her down; seven-year-olds had too much energy to be contained for long.

"For the first one, we visited Winry in Rush Valley, and she made Al her famous apple pie. When she heard we were going to be in Central for it this year, she called Mrs. Hughes and asked her to surprise us with one," Ed explained.

"Does Miss Rockbell know what you both are up to these days?" Roy asked casually.

"Of course! We told her before we came to talk to you," Al explained.

"Really?" he asked, a bit surprised.

"She had a right to know why we wanted to leave, and why I was staying in the military," Ed said quietly. "We've put her through a lot."

"When we were hunting for the Stone, we didn't talk to her about it, but we _did_ let her know that our goal was to get our bodies back," Al continued.

Roy's face cleared. "That makes sense."

His eyes wandered to Gracia across the room, and he decided that he might want to talk to her after Elysia went to sleep tonight. He owed Maes' widow the same consideration.

He found himself surprised by how much the Elrics had grown up. Watching them interact with others was different from entertaining them at his house, for some reason. To be honest, he was not very surprised by Alphonse. The younger brother had always seemed to be the older brother. A bit young and innocent at times, but generally wise beyond his years with a good head on his shoulders. Even when it was a helmet that could fall off. It was strange to see the same mannerisms in the young boy's expressiveness as they'd all grown accustomed to seeing in the suit of armor, but that was all.

No, the surprise was Ed. There was none of the familiar brashness and immaturity that he'd seen when he met the teen again. He realized that Ed had grown up, in several ways. He'd actually gained some height, of course, but he was more mellow. And relaxed; his eyes did not seem as haunted as they did when he was a child, at least not in these unguarded moments. So then – the brashness was directed at _him_. He could think of several reasons for that – old rivalries, insecurity, mood swings. But he suspected that Ed had not really changed; he still covered his own discomfort with flamboyant behavior. The louder and more obnoxious he was…the more he was worried about something. He must have been nearly _terrified_ when he'd knocked on the door that first time. But that meant…he was not comfortable with the change in one Roy Mustang, former Colonel in the Amestris Military. And knowing Ed, he planned to do something about it.

Roy felt uneasy. He did not want Ed 'fixing' him. It couldn't be done, and…well, frankly, the idea did strange things to his stomach. The speculative look that crossed Ed's face sometimes – he'd thought it was unrelated to anything at hand, but now he saw it directed at him. And then Ed turned to look at Gracia, and Roy's heart skipped a beat. _No._ Ed was _not_ allowed to interfere there.

* * *

Ed and Al both came over the next day. President Armstrong's sudden rise to power had thrown a spanner in the Elrics' plans, but most of it had been salvageable. "At least she's not actively opposed to alchemy," Al admitted. Ed would be able to continue expanding his authority…if they planned things very carefully.

"One lousy setback isn't going to make me give up," Ed agreed. He'd walked over to a card table in the corner of the living room, and started putting some pieces in the large puzzle that was spilled out on it. "She might not trust me, but she'll use me if she thinks I'm worth it. I just have to stay useful to her and hope she doesn't drive the country into the ground while I sit on my hands."

"She wouldn't – " Roy started, but Ed waved him away.

"Quit defending her. Is she your girlfriend or something?" Al snickered appreciatively at that image – the woman practically defined 'unapproachable.' "You know she'd go to war in a heartbeat. This country is going to be the epitome of a military state by the time she's done with us."

"But only to defend our borders. She's not _trying_ to drench the land in blood."

Al shook his head. "That doesn't really matter though, does it? The reason why a war is started might matter in the beginning, but in the end…it _does_ cut a swath of blood across the country. That's one of the things we want to _change._"

"You have two birthdays each year now, right? So you've passed your brother." Roy had a speculative look in his eye. "You might be old enough, now…"

"What are you doing?" Ed asked, abandoning the puzzle. There were times when he didn't trust his former superior. This was one of them. "Old enough for what?"

Roy just shrugged. "The President's younger sister isn't married yet. Havoc thought she was a nice girl. She might have preferred you with the armor, though."

"You are not going to marry my brother off!"

"Then you'll just have to work harder to stay in the President's good graces yourself," he retorted. "Use your alchemy to stay useful to her, but take the opportunity to show off a bit and gain some support outside of Central. You need a command of your own one of these days, and Major Hawkeye tells me it's not forthcoming at the moment."

"I'm working on it," Ed insisted. "But speaking of women…Mrs. Gracia is a beautiful woman."

The room fell silent after Al's squeaked, "Brother!"

Roy's eyes narrowed. "I will _not_ tolerate another comment like that, if you wish to enter my house again."

"Why, you didn't leave with everyone else last –"

"Edward Elric, there is only one creature more despicable than a man who would lead his best friend to his death – and that is a man who would betray his friend after his death. I will never touch Gracia Hughes."

"But what if she –"

"I am not interested in your opinions on this subject. Drop it."

"I don't see why you're allowed to talk about Al and I getting married," Ed muttered unhappily, but finally heeded the older man's order. He did not mention Gracia Hughes or Roy Mustang's love life again for the duration of the visit. But Roy doubted he'd heard the last of it.

* * *

Edward did get his own command (just) before he was twenty, when he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. Al joined his staff officially, though it was fair to say no one was surprised in the least when he passed the State Alchemy exam. He complained good-humoredly that no one ever paid any attention to him, because of his older brother. But he and Ed both took leave to visit Resembool to celebrate Al's new status. Winry had returned to her hometown after her apprenticeship in Rush Valley. She took over the family Automail business; Granny Pinako wasn't getting around as well these days, but was spitfire as ever and insisted on continuing to help out her granddaughter. She said work kept her young.

Edward's new post was a step forward, but it created the added difficulty of fewer excuses to visit Central. His communication with Hawkeye and Mustang was limited to phone calls and the mail. Neither of which they really trusted. Surveillance of communications had only increased in the past few years. It was agreed that everything should be encrypted, especially written materials that could fall into the wrong hands. Edward and Roy bickered over whose code to use, since they both had pre-existing systems for recording their alchemy notes, but which neither really wished to disclose. In the end, Al developed a new code, and if it did incorporate names of people and places, the other two were gracious enough not to mention it. This was all worked out during their stop at Central on their trip from Resembool to Lieutenant Colonel Elric's command post in the West.

It was agreed that Ed would drill into his team loyalty to the country, tempering that with loyalty to the people first. He and Al both liked the model of looking out for subordinates. As time went on, Ed could learn whether or not they were trustworthy enough to be told his real plans. "Remember, you are planning for the long haul. If these subordinates are good, they'll be able to help you even more if they know your ultimate goals. But if they're more interested in their own careers, they can ruin everything for you. Better to be cautious. Make your views clear, and let them see _how_ your leadership works. When they prove themselves, then bring them on board."

"How long did you wait until -?"

Roy shook his head. "Not long at all. But I know now how lucky I was. And not all your superiors are your enemies. At least _try _to work with them."

Ed made a face. "Hey, I'm working with you, aren't I? I can be civil when I choose to. And besides, I've got Al to keep me from making too many enemies. How can you not love that face?" Al obliged by smiling sweetly, doing his best to look innocent. Roy could not help but laugh.

They agreed that all packages would be delivered to Major Hawkeye at work, so that no one would become suspicious of their ongoing correspondence with Roy. "A few phone calls to an old friend to chat won't raise suspicions. After all, you boys have visited occasionally, and who is to say that it's anything but a social call? But deliveries of encrypted materials would _definitely_ send off warnings if anyone is watching you."

"I've only just started. Do I need to be this paranoid already?" Ed groused.

"You're the one who continues to insist that the current regime is totalitarian in the extreme," Roy pointed out. "These are reasonable precautions."

Riza delivered the first packet of papers to Roy two weeks after Ed had settled into his new post at Western Command. Mostly, it was just griping. It took him forever to decode it, and he wasn't sure if this was such a good idea after all. Ed's rants were more enjoyable in person than on paper.

The next one was delivered by Falman, who was still under Hawkeye's command. Roy thought it was good to see him again, and was glad to hear that he was interested in helping out. Ed really would have a head start on this whole process, having begun when he was only twelve. The map of "Towns that Like Me" had quite a few blue dots on it, and only a few red ones. Ed had done a good job of endearing himself to people, which was strange, considering how little he had tried to do that. His integrity was his charm. After all, he'd caused a massively destructive civil war in the prosperous town of Liore, and its inhabitants hailed him as savior, simply for revealing the truth. That kid had all the luck.

The fifth package was a slim envelope, and it was delivered by a rather annoyed Riza. "Take care of this, sir," she informed him, and left. He opened the envelope and saw the problem immediately. The outer envelope was addressed to the office, as always. But the inner envelope was addressed as:

_Roy Mustang_

_c/o Major Riza Hawkeye_

_Please deliver this IN PERSON and tell me his reaction._

He picked up the phone, and got Lieutenant Colonel Elric on the line.

"There's no need to ask the Major. You can ask me directly," he said without preamble.

"Oh, but there is. I have my reasons."

"Do they involve you or me?" he asked, not wanting to say much over the phone.

"Have you opened the envelope yet?"

He looked at his lap. "No. But that is beside the point. You may outrank her, but you will not turn her into a delivery service and you will _not_ attempt whatever you are attempting."

"Yes, sir," said a rather subdued Ed. No, not subdued. Disappointed. Resigned.

"Quit fooling around. Don't contact me again unless it's something pertinent." He hung up the phone with some force.

He opened the letter. It was instructions for him to spend more time with his former military associates…under the guise of chasing skirts. He went to the trouble of starting a fire to burn it.

* * *

_Author's Note: _Thank you so much for the reviews so far! I hope this explains some of what was going on last chapter.


	4. Building Relationships

Building Relationships

Ed was surprised when Mustang's replies to his next two letters were late. By the time he was ready to write the third letter, he modified 'late' to 'no response.' He didn't like this. Something wasn't right, but maybe he was jumping to conclusions? He tried calling to ask, but Mustang didn't answer his phone at the times he'd rung. He discussed it with Al after sending the next letter, and his brother recommended calling Hawkeye.

Since he still hadn't heard a word from Mustang, he had little choice.

"_Permission to speak freely, sir?"_ she asked him in her clipped work tones.

"_Uh, yes?"_ he said, nervous now. She'd never respected his rank before, but whatever she was about to say to him, it would be safer to hear it over the phone.

"_Don't meddle in things you don't understand. Do your job. And come apologize in person."_

"_Apologize? What did I do?"_

"_Since I did not read the letter, I do no__t know." _He didn't believe her for a moment. Mustang had told her something, or she wouldn't be so ticked off with him.

He sighed. _"In person? As in, come to Central?"_

"_Sooner rather than later,"_ she informed him.

"I hope I don't have to take a train ride to Central just because he's sulking," Ed complained to Al when he got off the phone.

"It will be good to go to Central again. It's been awhile," Al said diplomatically. Personally, he agreed with Hawkeye. His brother was not good at endearing himself to people, but if he and Mustang were going to sort out this misunderstanding, it would have to be in person. He had tried to get Ed to tell him what had set him off, but his brother was not forthcoming with details. He'd refused to write Mustang himself if Ed didn't cough up the contents of that letter, so Ed had been on his own to sort it out.

* * *

"Do you think I give a rat's ass what you do with your time? You can sit here and stare at the wall all day and only leave to walk the dog, for all I care. But you have a job now, and that means you're supposed to at least answer my letters, right?"

"Wrong. I'm supposed to teach you how to become President. Ordering around people who aren't your subordinates will get you nowhere. That lesson is more crucial than anything I would have said in reply to the information you shared with me."

"So you're going to say that you weren't just sitting here moping?"

"No, I was not. I do not _mope_, Edward. And as your advisor, I will not do what you tell me to do. Word it as a request next time."

Ed deflated. It was an odd thing to see, the fight just draining out of him. "Why d'you hafta be this way?" he mumbled into his hands. "I was just…"

"Just trying to make me the person you used to know?"

"No! Nothing like that," he protested. "It's just, ever since Al and I got out to Western Headquarters, we've gotten so much help from Breda. The man knows what's going on with everyone – he gave us all sorts of introductions. The real kind, where he tells you what type of person they are, not just how he happens to know them. And I thought, you were always good with people, and it would be good to have you doing that in Central."

"But the promotion went to your head, and so you ordered me to do something ridiculous?" Roy asked, not seeing the connection between the story and the letter he'd received.

"Something like that," Ed mumbled, still lost in his hands.

Al looked at him sharply, but held his peace. He'd insisted his brother let him accompany him this time, but he had only come to referee if necessary. He was not going to get involved in their argument. That would be as dumb as stepping between two fighting dogs.

"Well, next time think first. If you want me to renew my military contacts, that's a separate issue from me renewing my contacts with the lovely young ladies of Central. Not that you'd know anything about that, Edward." He smirked at the younger man, trying to get a rise out of him.

To his complete and utter shock, Ed just grinned back at him looking…_smug_. There was something seriously wrong with this picture. "What have you done?" he asked, horrified.

"Nothing, really," Ed protested. "Al won't let me."

"Won't…let you?"

"The girls out west like automail and blond hair and Lieutenant Colonels. Apparently."

"And Al, you fit into this…how?" Roy acknowledged the younger brother's presence for the first time since letting them into his house.

"I say he can't chase any of them." It was his turn to look smug. "Or I'll propose to Winry."

"You're worried she'd accept, Ed?"

"Who can say no to that face?" Ed teased lightly, but Roy could see the brothers had had some discussion of it. It was exceedingly odd to think of either of them as being old enough to turn heads, but it should not have surprised him.

"If Al would just get a girl of his own," Ed continued, "maybe he wouldn't be so fussy over how I spend my time." He pouted. "It's not like I want to go out on dates with them or anything. I just like talking to them. It's different from talking to guys."

Roy was having trouble not choking at this point. For some reason, the air was headed for his stomach and the saliva to his lungs. It took him a moment of sputtering and a few coughs to get his windpipe sorted out. "We are not having this conversation," he said in flat denial.

The brothers looked at him in faint amusement. "What's wrong?" Al asked. Then they exchanged a look and had trouble avoiding laughter.

"We are going to discuss Ed's deplorable people skills, with the focus on _men, _in particular, _military men,_ and you are not going to mention women until after dinner," he informed them.

"Have you ever considered that maybe it's not my people skills, but just _you?"_ Ed retorted. "Besides, I don't see how we can talk about anything in the military right now without mentioning the President, and she's a woman, in case you haven't noticed," he scoffed, stretching out on the couch now that the lecture was over.

Roy shook his head. "No, she's perfectly content living in a man's world and acting like a man. She hardly counts as a woman, because you don't have to treat her as one." He paused. "In fact, it's safer not to. But I know it's not just me, because everyone tells me you act completely oblivious. Ordering people around just makes that worse."

"Fine. I won't give you any more orders. Sorry to bruise that ridiculous ego of yours." He sat up straighter. "But when I _am_ Führer, you might want to think twice about disobeying."

* * *

"Most men go about it all wrong," Roy insisted. "At least at your age," he ammended. "Women are very sensitive about unwanted attention. So, if you invade their space and paw at them, they retreat immediately. The trick is to give them plenty of space. Lean back, not into them, while being as inviting as possible. Then they'll come to you."

He illustrated his point by leaning away from Al and smiling. Dinner was over, and Al and Roy had somehow gotten into a conversation on picking up girls. It was Ed's turn to sputter. "You are _not _going to corrupt my younger brother!"

"Oh, come on, Ed. He's not a baby, and I'm not telling him anything dangerous." He turned back to Al. "Flattery," he whispered loudly. "The key is to flatter them shamelessly."

Al was having trouble keeping a straight face. His brother's rising ire was hilarious; that is, until Ed found his voice.

"If you're so good at picking up girls, why don't you?"

Roy stilled and glared at Ed. "Stay out of it."

"Why should I? If you're going to insist on telling Al how to live, I have an interest in how this strategy pans out."

"There's nothing wrong with the strategy. I must say I know quite a bit about meeting women, and I haven't forgotten any of it. Just because you've finally opened your eyes and noticed that girls aren't boys doesn't mean I have to consider you experienced in the subject."

"What? How is this about me! When's the last time you - ?"

"It's creepy for a man of my age to pursue eighteen year old girls. And most women of my age are married and have children of their own. I'm merely passing the advice on to someone who might use it."

"They're not _all_ married," said Ed, but he did drop it. Or seemed to. Roy did not trust the look on his face.

* * *

After the brothers left that night, Roy sat in his living room with his chin resting in his hands. He had built a new life for himself, and gotten fairly comfortable with it. But a visit from the Elrics was sure to shake things up, jangling him out of his complacency. Maybe because it made him remember the past. Strange that they would do that to him. The brothers were not trapped in the past. They were growing up, moving forward with their lives, constantly changing. But somehow, they reminded Roy of just how much he had changed, too.

He remembered that first day after the…well, it wasn't an accident. _Injury_ is how he tended to think of it, but to all appearances, he was unscathed. Once he'd woken up, they'd kept him in the hospital for observations, and then released him when they were convinced he hadn't suffered a concussion. No harm done. He remembered the Gate, as Edward called it, and what it had demanded of him, but it seemed a dream.

That was, until he tried to return to work. He had sat at his desk and just…stared. He couldn't do anything. It was as if he were frozen inside. It wasn't that he didn't want to, or was putting it off or avoiding it – he simply _couldn't_ do his work! His look of horror must have shown on his face, because he saw it mirrored in Hawkeye's expression as she worriedly asked if he were okay. He explained to her, haltingly, as best he could, what the price would be for Edward's life. She had insisted he give it time, see if he could learn to cope with this…change. But he'd signed the resignation papers that first day. She was not an alchemist and did not understand – there would be no loophole.

And there hadn't been. He'd lost more than he'd bargained for. Who knew that lack of ambition rendered an alarm clock useless? He could set it for any time, put it across the room, and let it go off repeatedly – but he slept through the damn thing no matter what he did. He felt a sense of accomplishment just for making it through the day now. How far he had fallen!

But he had cheated the Gate, in the end. His ambition for Edward's life – and now Edward would be his heir, carrying on his dreams and ambitions in his stead. It was unsettling to watch things unfold from such a detached point of view, but it suited him. He wasn't a ghost yet.

* * *

The next two years went by quickly and relatively smoothly. Edward was able to recruit quite a few alchemists to the State Alchemy program while he was stationed in the West, and this kept him in good standing with Central Military Command. Not that any of them really trusted them – he was still too young. He'd only been promoted so that he would outrank the new recruits. There had been some changes to the State Alchemists, but they still entered as Majors. They had mandatory military service now, but they were not given nicknames as they had been under Bradley. The older alchemists used that as a sign of distinction, but Edward seldom used the title Fullmetal these days. Everyone suspected it was because Alphonse, as one of the newer alchemists, lacked a title of his own.

Roy had tried to suggest many outrageous titles for the boy, but for some reason, none of them stuck.

He was proud of Ed and Al's current strategy. Even if he'd thought it up, they were the ones who had implemented it, and it seemed to be going rather well. The Western alchemists, after completing their active military duty, served an additional mandatory year of service to the community, in which they were not expected to produce any research results. Not surprisingly, distrust of State Alchemists had waned considerably in the West, and the program had a prestige among the common people that it had never enjoyed before. And that translated to more blue dots on the formerly sparsely-marked western region of the map. The real surprise, however, was how they had gotten permission to 'waste' state resources like that. Everyone knew that President Armstrong was interested in alchemy research only as it translated into military advances that would give them advantages over their neighbors.

As long as there was peace with Creta, she did not seem to mind how Ed was using the alchemists he recruited. And he'd been able to justify what he was doing with some BS about the service year teaching alchemists to fulfill demands rather than pursue their own interests.

It took Roy longer than he cared to admit to figure out why Edward complained about the history of peace with Creta. After all, he was usually in favor of solving problems without going to war over them. And since he and his brother were stationed in the West, any unrest would throw them both into a war zone. But war meant injuries, and injuries meant automail. There was little demand for automail mechanics in the West.

Ed did not let that stop him, though. The boy had always been impatient. He and Winry were married in Resembool, and then she packed up and moved out West to join him. Apparently, he had found her a position in a hospital where she could still do automail work, but also work with surgery and rehab on a wider variety of injuries. Besides, Ed had always been her favorite customer, and he still had the arm for her to work on.

Roy stared out the window on the train ride back to Central. He had been surprised to be invited to the wedding, for some reason. If he had not been convinced that Edward had grown up before, he had to acknowledge it now. The boy – young man – was in his twenties, a lieutenant colonel, and married. It only bothered him in comparison, he decided. After all, he was in his thirties, a retired colonel, and unlikely to ever marry.

"Enjoy the trip, sir?" asked Major Riza Hawkeye from the seat across from him.

"It's hard to believe that Edward and Winry were eleven year old kids when we met them," he said instead.

"Yes. That was a long time ago." She sounded a bit wistful, which was unusual for her.

"So is this your beautiful future?" he asked her, somewhat curious as to how badly he had failed her.

To his surprise she smiled at him. "We're getting there. Watching them at the wedding, they were so happy together."

They fell back into silence. Roy could not help thinking that Riza had never married, either. Somehow, he knew that was his fault, but he couldn't really understand how. He was more comfortable accepting the guilt of Gracia being a widow, to be honest.

* * *

If Roy had hoped that marriage would tame Ed, he was sorely mistaken. Winry didn't seem to have a calming influence on anyone, and Ed was just as high-strung as ever. But they did manage to make it to Central more often.

"Winry's staying with Gracia. She insisted on visiting Elicia. That girl is like a little sister to her; she just adores having her around." Ed had his back to the room, messing with the puzzle in the corner, again. "Do you ever work on these puzzles?" he asked finally. "It seems you don't make much progress while we're gone."

"I try not to," Roy answered.

"Then why do you have so many?" Ed persisted, looking at the stack of puzzle boxes under the table.

"I started doing them a few years ago, to help improve my focus. But the idea backfired, and I ended up spending more time on them than was healthy. Now, I only work on them occasionally."

Ed knew he meant 'six years ago,' and dropped the subject. "Well, since you like teaching us so much, I have a new request for you."

Roy wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. But at least he wasn't giving orders. "What now?"

"Al has finished his mandatory service, and is ready to start a research project. I was wondering if you'd be willing to help him with that."

"I don't do alchemy anymore," Roy said quickly.

"You don't have to do it yourself, just teach him. I thought it might be nice to have another flame alchemist."

Roy froze. "You want me to teach him…that?"

"Well, yeah – unless you know some other awesome alchemy you'd like to pass on."

Roy shook his head. "That's not my decision."

"Why not?" Ed asked in surprise. "It's your alchemy, you can do what you want with it. If you don't want to teach him, just say so."

"No, it's not mine. It was my teacher's legacy, and was entrusted to me to serve the people. I failed in that trust in Ishbal, and lost the right to pass it on."

"Who…who was your teacher?" Ed asked in surprise. He'd never thought about that before.

"He's dead," Roy said succinctly.

"Then it is up to you, now. Al wouldn't do what you did in Ishbal. You can trust him."

"If you are serious about this, have Al discuss it with Major Hawkeye. If she gives her permission, I'll teach him."

"Why is it her call? She's not even an alchemist."

"It was her father's research," he said quietly. "And last we spoke about this, she did not want to create another flame alchemist."

Ed didn't know what to say to that.

* * *


	5. Learning Curve

Learning Curve

"Ishbal. What do you intend to do about Ishbal?" Roy leaned back in his chair, waiting. Ed glanced up from the maps and graphs he'd spread out over the table. Al's code was genius for making a coup look harmless – for all anyone could tell, he was just keeping track of fruit production in his province.

"Well, it wasn't supposed to be part of Amestris anyway," he said casually. "We could just give them their independence." He looked back down at the maps. He was only in town for Al's assessment, and wanted to keep his time here focused. Winry would kill him if he didn't make it back to the Hughes' for dinner.

"So you're going to cut them loose. Abandon them."

Ed sat back on the couch with a puzzled look. The only problem with Roy's couch was the dog hair that stuck to it. "But…don't they _want_ independence? I really don't think they've appreciated our rule, and I don't think anyone can blame them."

"Perhaps not, but if we go in, destroy their land, and then hand it back to them under the guise of independence, we've done them no favors."

"Well, we could give them money to rebuild and shit. We want to have mostly open borders anyway, so trade shouldn't be an issue."

Roy shook his head. "It's more than that. If we grant them independence, we have no way of organizing that rebuilding ourselves. No way to make it happen. They won't just need money – they'll need a new infrastructure."

"But we can't let the military march in and give it to them! That will just cause more harm than good. They have to be autonomous," Ed argued.

Roy nodded. "Yes, grant them autonomy. But their land is within our borders. We can let them govern themselves, when they're ready, but we'll make sure their land is ready for them. Right now, it's a barren waste."

"I've never been to Ishbal," Ed said reflectively. "Maybe I should go. See if it's really…well, what I imagine."

"If you get a chance," Roy said neutrally, neither urging him nor discouraging the idea. "What would the priority be, do you think, in rebuilding?" He was curious how Ed would approach this issue.

"Water, definitely. They're in the middle of a desert, and you can't do a thing without that. I'm not sure how kindly they'd take to state alchemists showing their faces there, but I'm sure we can get some government-sponsored irrigation and cistern system going. After that…well, I'm not sure. Infrastructure, I guess. Roads, train stations, buildings. There _are_ buildings there already, right?"

"Some. We…made quite a mess of them, as I recall."

Ed just grunted. "So, yeah, just rebuild whatever they need." He waved a hand carelessly to illustrate his sweeping statement.

"You think very concretely. You cannot rebuild a country by building buildings and roads. You must rebuild the people."

"Huh? How can you do anything without water, though?"

"The Ishvarlans are resourceful. They'll know how to get the water sorted out. They've lived under harsh conditions longer than anyone from Amestris. You can fund it, but I'd trust that project to them, not the government."

"Well, duh, I was planning to hire Ishvarlans for all of this. I told you, they aren't going to want military people in their country." He looked at Roy suspiciously. "And didn't you just say we'd need to rebuild the infrastructure for them?"

"We would. But before that, we need to make some gesture of goodwill. They don't just dislike us; they have a deep-seated mistrust of us. And it's well-earned. We've done nothing but hunt them down and destroy their lives for years. You cannot overcome that with an irrigation project."

"It has to be something…closer to home. Something…uniquely Ishvarlan." Ed said slowly, catching on. "But what is more fundamental than water in a desert? What am I missing?" He didn't see what Roy was getting at.

"You have met people from Ishbal, haven't you?" Roy asked. "What strikes you most about them?"

"Well, besides the red eyes, you mean?" Ed asked rhetorically. "I guess they dress different – those loose robes are more like the people from Xing, not what we wear. And they're always going on and on about their god. It's always, 'May the grace of Ishbala protect you,' not 'Have a nice day.'"

"Bingo. If we want to earn their trust, we have to convince them that we take them seriously. Which means acknowledging their God by helping to rebuild their temples."

Ed sputtered. "You can't be serious? No one in Amestris believes in Ishbala. And that earth-god must be a pretty crappy one if he let all his people get killed. It's a wonder the Ishvarlans believe in him any more."

Roy looked past him. "I used to think that," he said quietly. "Their beliefs seemed something quaint, almost pathetic, at the time. But I'm not so sure, any more." He looked directly at Ed, his dark eyes more certain than they had been in recent years. "I know what those people were up against. Our orders were explicit – to kill them all. They are not defenseless, but they _were_ overwhelmed. They should have all been killed. No refuge was offered to them in Aerugo. And yet…we failed. Thank God, we failed. In every corner of Amestris, you can find pockets of Ishvarlan refugees. They were not defeated. They were not destroyed. And their faith in their God did not waver. I do not know what that means, but I can't disregard it as meaningless superstition any more. It is real to them, at least, and maybe even something more than that."

Ed looked at him skeptically. "But…"

Roy shook his head. "I can't explain this. Any more than I can explain the Gate to someone who hasn't seen it. It's just…"

"You think there really is something to it?"

"I think it is important to rebuild those temples. The people of Ishbal need them more than wells."

Ed nodded. "It doesn't matter what I think they need. It matters what they think is important. Doesn't it?"

Roy nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "And if you remember that, you will know how to find advisors when you do not understand."

* * *

It was a nuisance that they wouldn't let Al do his yearly evaluation at Western Command, but perhaps not surprising that they didn't trust Ed to assess him fairly. Since they were brothers, Al had to return to Central to be evaluated by another ranking state alchemist. More than the assessment, though, the brothers were dreading their conversation with Major Hawkeye.

They went to see her in her office for their scheduled appointment. Ed felt about twelve years old, even though he was in his twenties and outranked her. Heck, he was even taller than her (well, if you discounted her hair, or counted his.) But she still intimidated him. So, being the mature older brother, he let Al start the conversation.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Major," Al began nervously. "I know you don't usually like to discuss alchemy, but this project is important to me, to both of us, really."

"Why? What do you hope to do with this knowledge?" She did not smile, but just looked at both of them steadily with her fathomless eyes.

"You have to understand, controlling fire is really advanced alchemy. I don't know anyone who can do that. And I want to keep learning…"

She shook her head. "That answer may satisfy an alchemist, but I am a soldier. I have known two alchemists who could control fire, and I am yet to be convinced than any good came of it."

"It can be used to help…" Ed began, but she cut him off.

"It can be used to kill, and as long as Al is a state alchemist, it _will_ be used as a weapon. Is that your goal, Edward? To have your brother sent to the front line of the next war?"

That gave both of them pause.

"I wanted to learn, so I would be better able to protect Ed when he…accomplishes his goal," Al said after an awkward silence. "I don't want to kill anyone, and I understand your concerns."

"But Al and I are already human weapons, and he'd be sent no matter what he studied," Ed argued. "Even if it was botany."

Finally, she bowed her head. "Roy has the knowledge, not me. He may train you if he sees fit. It is no longer my decision."

The both thanked her, and left. They just wished she didn't sound despondent about the whole thing.

* * *

Ed was moody for the rest of the day, and Winry finally cornered him that night and asked him what was up.

"I don't know. I feel like a dumb kid again. It's…it's about Al's training."

"Do you miss studying alchemy full time?" she asked. She knew what sacrifices he was making, and why, but that didn't mean that either of them were thrilled with his military career.

"Maybe a little, but that's not it." He flopped down and sighed noisily. "It's like…I feel we're failing them, but they won't tell us 'no.' Like they want us to do this on our own, but they really wish we'd do things differently."

She reached over to rub his back absently. "How can you tell they're upset?" she asked.

His face twisted into a smile. "Because he told us to ask Riza, and she told us to ask Roy."

Winry laughed. "That's what my parents used to do. If I asked my dad for something, he'd say, 'Go ask your mother,' but when I went to ask her, she'd say the same thing. It wasn't until after they were gone that I realized they both wanted to say no, but couldn't."

He rolled over to face her. She didn't talk about her parents often, but she didn't seem upset this time. "Yeah, but Al and I don't need babysitters. I wish they'd just come out and say they don't want to teach him."

"Maybe…maybe they're hoping that Al's story will have a different ending from Roy's."

Ed stilled. "Am I setting my brother up?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, Ed," she said stroking his hair out of his face. "This is a dangerous game you and Al are playing. You never know what might happen."

He smiled at her. "In that case, I'd rather Al spend his time learning the most amazing defensive alchemy I've ever seen." His face cleared. "What would I do without you, Winry?"

"Probably mope around all the time," she answered frankly, and he swatted at her with his left hand.

* * *

Roy overcame his reluctance, and agreed to teach Al. Neither he nor Ed learned what Riza said to him, but he never mentioned the debt he owed her again. They could only assume Al had her blessing.

Al turned out to be a diligent student, but a demanding one. He read through the first book Roy assigned, and then returned with a laundry list of questions trying to figure it out.

"I'm going to start you out with the theoretical stuff, because you need to understand this before you can control anything. This kind of research can be…dangerous, and I'm not exactly able to correct your mistakes as we go. You're on your own for keeping it under control."

Al frowned. "I understand, sir. I didn't expect to master it immediately. I just don't understand how it all ties together yet."

"You and your brother are experts at manipulating solids. You understand how they work almost intuitively, and I would trust you to rearrange any solid material. Maybe liquids too. But gases are trickier. They expand, so timing is essential. They mix easily and quickly. They are fickle, impacted by temperature and pressure and humidity. You need…precision…if you are going to master them."

Al accepted this explanation, and continued to read and study. The first practical application Roy set for him was a simple trick. He lit a candle, and placed it under a glass jar. "Keep the candle burning," he instructed.

It was trickier than it sounded. In a matter of minutes, the candle burned through what little oxygen was available. To keep the flame alive, he had to transmute more oxygen from the water vapor in the air. But there was only so much of that under the small jar. He was able to keep it going a little longer each time, but the longest was still only 10 minutes.

Al did not get angry when he became frustrated. It merely focused his determination. His brother would have cheated and put holes in the glass by now. Al was getting more adroit at converting the water vapor into flammable gasses, but no more successful at keeping the candle lit. Finally, Roy took pity on him. "Is water vapor the only resource you have?" he murmured quietly.

Al considered that. "I can't burn nitrogen," he insisted, stating the obvious. "That leaves…oh!"

Getting oxygen from the carbon dioxide was even trickier, but it was a resource constantly renewed by the burning candle. He learned the importance of timing as he worked out an alchemical sleight-of-hand, where oxygen that was burned into carbon dioxide one moment was leached back into pure oxygen the next. The candle wound up covered in soot, but it kept burning. Or rather, it kept going out in sputters, because he could not get the transmutations to occur at exactly the right time. But eventually, he knew he'd be able to keep it going perpetually. It would only be limited by his need to sleep.

In the months that followed, Al learned to fine-tune his control, so that he could create gases in the exact amount and density that was required. It was only when he demonstrated this to Roy's satisfaction that the older man breathed a word of the secrets that could not be found in alchemy books.

"When we are finished, you will know how to make flames dance," he said simply. They were in the backyard, because flame alchemy was not safely learned indoors. Al had clapped his hands and filled a bunch of brown paper bags with various quantities of gas. He had to keep his concentration to keep them filled – otherwise, what he had transmuted would just float away. Roy handed him a taper. "Go ahead and light them."

Al lit the taper from the lantern they'd brought out, and then poked at the first bag gingerly. It burst with a 'pop' and the young man jumped back. Roy didn't even twitch.

"Scared of your own work, are you?" he asked Al.

"Just a bit…nervous, sir. I don't want to have to explain to anybody if these things blow up in my face."

"Do you trust what you have learned? You should know how big the explosion would be."

"It's different on paper. On paper, I don't have to worry about losing eyebrows."

Roy smirked, and pointed to the next bag.

Al gained confidence as he continued, barely flinching when one of the paper bags erupted in a fireball, burning to ash.

Roy took the taper away. "Now, do it again."

Al looked from the lantern to the paper bags, at a loss. How was he going to get the flame from one place to another? He clapped his hands, willing the flame to jump…but nothing happened. Not even a twitch from the flame in the lantern. "Was that in the Gate?" he asked.

Roy seemed surprised by the question. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. The Gate did not conceal it."

Al tried a few more times with no success. "The flame does not want to jump," he said wryly.

"No, it does not," Roy agreed with him. "You must give it a path."

Al's eyes lit up. "That's it! That's the secret!"

Roy nodded. "Yes. And now that you know it…you just need to learn to control it."

* * *

_Author's Note: _It's only fair to admit that I am a chemistry teacher. I know you can't tell or anything :P I promise that Al and Roy's next geeky interaction will sound more like alchemy than chemistry. This is also my first time writing Winry. I haven't found her voice yet, but hopefully she isn't too out of character.


	6. New Beginnings

New Beginnings

"Well, Al, I think you're ready to see the secret of the array." Roy presented the young man with a piece of paper decorated with not only an array, but also an explanation encoded around it.

Al took it eagerly.

"You'll have to burn this when you finish, so commit it to memory," Roy warned.

"Yes, sir," Al said, already mesmerized.

Roy didn't let the paper leave his house, so Al nearly became a houseguest for the week. He'd decoded most of it by the third day, but was still trying to work out the nuances of what it _meant_. At the end of the week, Roy quizzed him, and was convinced the kid knew as much as there was to learn from it. His work as Al's teacher was nearly finished. From here, it was just fine-tuning, which Al would learn with practice. He would be a bystander.

Roy put his hand in his pocket and pulled out an old pair of gloves. He handed them over to Al without a word. Al took them from him a bit in awe.

"These…these are your gloves," he said, looking at Roy uncertainly.

"Are you saying they won't fit?" Roy asked, intentionally misunderstanding his hesitation.

Al swallowed, and put them on. They fit just fine. He looked back at Roy, his eyes wide. "Do you…do you regret what you did? For my brother and me, I mean." Al almost never mentioned the day that had changed Roy's life as irrevocably as his own brush with the Gate as a child. But he needed the reassurance this time.

Roy looked at him, considering thoughtfully. His eyes and face revealed very little about his thoughts, and today was no different.

_He'd gotten word that his subordinate was tearing up the streets again. When he arrived on the scene, the MPs didn't know where Ed or Al had run off to. They suggested he follow the explosions. He'd had time to stew on how frustrating Fullmetal was for never telling him about these things in advance, before his fruitless search yielded a red coat disappearing into an alley nearly five blocks away. _

_By the time he'd arrived…Ed was no longer standing. Evidence of the duel was everywhere – Ed _literally_ tore up the streets when he got into altercations. The other occupant of the alley (besides puddles, a pile of trash, and an old broken table) was armed, dressed all in black and had impossibly pale skin. Roy halted, one hand on his gun and the other poised to snap. His challenge was met with a smirk, as the homunculus tossed aside the spear – Ed's spear, Roy realized suddenly. That was when he saw the blood, and he lost his patience. He blew up the table with enough force to leave only ash as debris – but he maintained enough control to shield both Edward and himself from the blast. Flame alchemy demanded a coolness and control that could not succumb to the heat of the moment. _

_The homunculus was startled, but not damaged. "My work here is done," the taunting voice claimed, before disappearing onto the rooftops. _

_Roy ran over to where Ed was slumped, not even propped up against the wall. "Ed! ED!" he called, but got no response. Ed had been skewered with his own transmuted spear, and was leaking a dangerous quantity of blood. "Hold on, Fullmetal," Roy said, getting more worried by the moment. He felt for a pulse, and was alarmed by just how weak it was. "Damn it! I can't lose you. Don't you dare – "_

_He looked up, foolishly hoping that help would appear in the entrance to the alley. Where were the MPs when you needed them? He looked down at the young man. Ed was small enough, maybe he could pick him up…. Shifting his shoulder to get a grip on the teen, he realized the futility of that plan. As his hand went to support Ed's back, he touched sticky wetness. He sucked in his breath, realizing just how deep Ed's wound was. He was cut clean through. And that automail arm was quite the deadweight; Roy didn't know if he'd be able to manage both that and the leg. _

_Time was running out, and Roy didn't see any way to save the boy. He'd seen enough mortal wounds before to recognize how tenuously Ed was clinging to life. If they were in a hospital, maybe, but here on a deserted street, Ed was bleeding out, and there was nothing he could do. Roy growled. That was not an option. He was not going to face Al and tell him his brother was gone. What would Ed do? He'd pull off some crazy alchemy and save the person – _

_And that's when Roy realized there _was_ still one option remaining. Without pause, he drew the transmutation circle he'd learned long ago but never used. It was darkly funny that Ed had lost enough blood for him to use it this way, but he didn't pause to think. He formulated a quick plan, and then crossed the line into forbidden alchemy._

Ed's not dead yet, _he told himself as he activated the array…._

"No, Al. I'll never regret that," he said at last. "But I would have always regretted it if I'd done nothing but watch your brother's life ebb away."

Al nodded in understanding. "Thank you, for everything." He took a deep breath and focused, giving the gloves a tentative snap. The spark did not startle him, but he did nothing with it. Then he turned to the drawing of the array, and the notes he'd made this week, and very deliberately set them on fire. He watched the smoke rise in the air with determination. "I will use your gift to protect Ed, and others who need it. I promise. I will not let the military twist this."

Roy smiled. "I hope you can keep that promise."

Alphonse shrugged. "I try to keep my promises."

From what Roy knew of Elrics, they were surprisingly good at that.

* * *

Ed came to visit not long afterwards, in a rather hectic, dark mood. "We can't stay long," he said, and Mustang believed him. He'd never brought his wife along before. "How's the studying going, Al?" he asked his brother.

"I think I've got it now, but there's a lot of control I'm still working on."

"Show me," Ed insisted. "After all, I'm funding this research, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't want to waste your allotted funds, surely," Roy murmured, smirking at the young man. He kept forgetting that Ed had grown up. It was so easy to think of him as the young teen he'd known all those years ago.

Most of the flammable materials in Mustang's house had been burned over the past month, and the ones that remained were not slated for destruction. So, Al led them outside and transmuted a target in the lawn. He pulled out the gloves, and snapped…and the target went up in flames.

Ed gave him a funny look, his mouth hanging open a bit. Realizing what he was doing, he snapped out of it. "That's great, Al. You can try it on the dog next."

Al gave him a withering look, but it was nothing compared to Winry's. "Edward!" She pulled a stake out of Roy's garden and whacked him on the head with it.

Now it was Roy's turn to stare, dumbfounded. "Edward, remind me never to upset your wife."

"It's necessary, to keep this knucklehead in line," Winry said affectionately, as Ed rubbed the growing lump ruefully. "But you don't have to worry; it's only for family." Al gulped.

"Yeah, yeah, we're not staying long, though," Ed reiterated. "We're going to Risembool, because Granny finally sold the house."

"Yeah, she wrote to me," Al said. "I'm…I'm glad she agreed to move out there, finally." He knew Winry had missed her grandmother terribly, and that not wanting to leave her was the main reason she'd hesitated to marry Ed.

"I'm just glad she found someone to buy the house," Winry said. "I thought for sure no one would want it after we'd used it as an automail shop for all those years. But one of our friends from Rush Valley came to visit, and just fell in love with the town. He couldn't get over how green the place is."

"It is a beautiful part of the country," Roy admitted. "I'm sure your grandmother will find it hard to leave."

Winry frowned. "It's just…that's always been home."

He watched the familiar guilty look creep onto Edward's face. Something more, sacrificed to fulfill his dream. He wondered if there would be anything left, if they reached their goal. A disturbing thought.

"Well, we'd better get going," Ed said.

"Oh no you don't," Winry stopped him. "You're not getting out of this that easily."

"You do it," he whined.

"Fine." She turned to his brother. "Al, you're going to be an uncle."

Al just blinked; it took him about five seconds to figure out what she was saying to him. Then his face lit up and his eyes went wide. "That's wonderful! When?"

"About half a year," she told him.

Roy took a step back, letting Al congratulate his brother and sister-in-law. He felt more than ever that he was intruding on their family, but he also knew that Ed would not appreciate what he had to say about this. Best to save that discussion for a time when Winry wasn't present. Despite her earlier reassurance, he knew he'd get hit for that one. He was polite until they left, all the time reassuring Al that they'd stop in Central on the return trip, so he could see Mrs. Rockbell.

* * *

Roy put his cup down, looking out at the sunny Central street. "Your father has an heir again," he said quietly, not looking for a response.

"Alchemy is such a strange tool. It can do so much good, and yet…"

"Like any tool, it depends upon the person who wields it," he said, repeating an old argument between them. Her eyes flicked to the holster at his belt, but she said nothing. "If anyone is responsible enough to wield Flame Alchemy, it is Alphonse Elric. The boy is very careful not to hurt anyone."

"He's not a boy, Roy." The small café was not very busy at this time in the afternoon; he missed the bustle of activity that he remembered from when he used to visit this place more often.

He sighed. "When did they grow up?"

"Years ago. The time flies."

"But I'm standing still," he murmured, looking down at his drink. Somehow, it was easier to look anywhere but at her. "I was able to draw it for him as if it were yesterday."

"Roy," she said, and he looked up suddenly. Her face was kind, but her eyes were so sad. "I told you when you began training him – I do not regret showing you."

A smile ghosted his face, and he fought a losing battle to hide it. The side of his mouth twitched a few times, and he finally said, "You were the first girl to take her shirt off for me, did you know that?"

Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly it was easy for him to look at her, and he no longer hid the smile. "We were both so young then."

"Yes," she agreed, "We were."

* * *

Al was nervous and distracted all through the next week. "I don't know why my brother hasn't called yet. How long do you think it will take to pack up Aunt Pinako's things?" he asked for maybe the third time.

"They'll be here soon enough," Roy said tiredly. "You need to focus on what you are doing."

Al looked at him blankly. "No one's ever had to tell me to focus on alchemy before."

"Perhaps you've never worked on such tricky stuff. If even the smallest thing goes wrong here…"

"No, I have," Al said quietly. "Human transmutation is finicky, too, and I was only ten then."

"But you had your brother around to correct your mistakes. If you decide to blow up my house, there's nothing I can do to stop you," Roy pointed out.

"Sorry, sir, I'll stay focused," Al said contritely. Secretly, Roy was thankful that he'd had Al to instruct, and not his brother. Teaching Ed the art of flame alchemy was just asking for trouble; he doubted he would have survived the ordeal.

Speaking of confronting Ed…the opportunity arrived two days later. Al went to their hotel as soon as they arrived in town, and Roy got himself invited over that evening. Mrs. Rockbell's eyes were as keen as ever, but she was showing her age. He understood why Ed and Winry didn't want to leave her alone in Risembool. Waiting until Winry was ensconced in a conversation with her grandmother, he pulled Ed aside.

"We need to talk, Edward," he said in a low voice.

Ed looked up, surprised. "What's wrong now? It's nothing Al did, is it?"

"Al's fine. But I want you to tell me what you think you're doing."

"What do you mean?" He was genuinely confused.

Roy looked back pointedly at Winry through the door to the next room. "Children?" he asked.

"Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"Cut it out, Ed, I'm being serious. What the hell made you think that kids would be a good idea?"

"Look, bastard, I don't see what makes you think this is _any_ of your business," Ed said heatedly, while managing to keep his voice down. "I don't have to justify myself to you."

"No, perhaps not. But when your children become terrorist targets, you're going to have to justify yourself to Winry."

"Maybe I thought that it wasn't fair to make Winry wait around for me to fulfill all my goals all the time, okay? Did you ever think of that? She wanted a family, and her grandmother isn't getting any younger. She wants to see great-grandbabies, to know Winry is happy and has a family of her own. I can't wait to live until Amestris is fixed; I have to keep living while I try to fix it. What's so wrong about that?"

"There is nothing wrong about having a family, Edward. But you have to know that you are putting them at risk. You can't be naïve about this." He looked away, taking a deep breath. "It's one thing to leave behind a widow. Orphans are another matter."

Ed looked like he couldn't decide whether to be pissed off or horrified. "Look, Al will look after the kid if anything happens to me, okay? And I know my family will be targets, but Winry would have been a target whether I married her or not. I can't let fear rule my life. I appreciate your advice, I really do – but not in this case. I can't make the choices you did."

Now it was Roy's turn to look wary. "What do you mean?"

"C'mon, you don't think people figured out why you never took your best friend's advice? You thought you couldn't afford to have a wife until you got to the top. But that's not the only way to do things."

"When did you figure that out, Ed?"

"I asked Mrs. Hughes about it, before I proposed to Winry. I thought she'd understand."

Roy clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "Just be careful, Ed. Your personal life is no longer personal when you take public office."

"Thanks for the warning," Ed said, trying to be polite, clearly aware of who was in the next room. "But if that's all you had to tell me this time…"

"Come over before you leave Central; there's something more I want to discuss with you." Ed was still looking skeptical. "Don't worry, it's not personal."

Ed turned to go back into the other room. "Oh, and Ed?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Congratulations. I hope the kid takes after your wife."

Ed smiled. "Me too."

* * *


End file.
